Cuckold Consequences

Plap! Plap! Plap!

 

My nails were digging into my palms.

 

“Oh, holy fuck! FUCK OH GOD!” Julie screamed. The bed groaned under the weight and vigorous activity on the mattress.

​

I was sitting across the room, in the dark, watching. Forgotten. Pushed aside… again.

 

“FUCKING TAKE IT.” Plap! Plap! Plap! “Who’s fucking cunt is this!” Devon’s voice was gruff and pitched low, panting with effort. Hands on Julie’s narrow hips, he gripped tightly. Her ass jumped and rippled red from his harsh slaps and spanks, as well as the friction of his pale, hairy stomach that was smacking into her repeatedly. His horse cock thrust into her tight little pussy recklessly. Her lips gripping and dragging over his shaft with slick squelches.

 

“Yours! Oh fuckin’ shit yours, baby! Yours, daddy! Please don’t stop!” Julie’s voice cracked, mixed with pleasure and pain.

 

The lights on either side of the bed lit them, but left the rest of the room in shadows. My chair was uncomfortable, rigid and too short for my long legs. Light glinted off my glasses as I watched my wife… my beautiful wife, get owned. Railed. Completely destroyed. And she was loving it.

 

Devon grabbed hold of her honey colored hair, long and sweaty and matted from their efforts over the last half hour, and pulled her head up from the bed. Her eyes were blazing gray blue, rimmed in red. He pulled her hair like it was a bridle on a horse, making her look at me as I sat feeling impotent and pathetic. 

 

It was all winding me up more and more. Pressing me like a spring, ready to break.

“Fucking look at your weak little husband. Tell him who owns this pussy!” Devon’s voice was harsh, commanding, almost hateful.

 

“Ohhh f…fuck…. It’s his. My pussy belongs to Devon, honey…AAAHHH!” Devon slapped Julie’s ass cheek so hard the snap filled the room and his hand print was visible on her pale skin. He paused for only a second, then thrust deep and firm back inside her slick tunnel. “Don’t call him that. He’s a limp dick! Call him a fucking limp dick unworthy of this little cunt!” He pushed and ground inside her, making her whine until she said it.

 

“That’s fucking right. You love me! Not that pathetic little shit.” He kept his grip on her hair, making her look me in the eye.

 

“Yes daddy! Yes, I fucking love you. Love your cock. Use me please. Don’t stop! Fuck meeeee!” She cried, tears in her eyes. His cock rammed deep again, balls swaying and slapping her clit rough and hard. He pulled her up, lifting her from her hands onto her knees and arching her back. Her B cups bounced furiously, arms dangling as he rutted her like an animal.

 

I could see his cock pistoning deep into her. Her bald slit was puffy and red, lips gripping hard and swollen and dripping frothy cream. “Look, limp dick. Look what I’m doing to your little wife. She’s not yours anymore. This pussy is fucking mine!” He laughed and then grabbed her by the back of the neck, slamming her back onto the mattress, face to the side. Devon squatted behind her and continued ramming downward into her pussy.

 

She was crying. Whimpering. Gasping in orgasmic grief.

 

“Take it. Take it. Fucking take my cock, you slut.” Devon chanted it like some sort of magic spell.

 

Plap! Plap! Plap! Plap!

 

The smell of sex, musk, sweat, salt, and ass filled the room. I gripped the arms of the chair, nails digging grooves into the wood. One of my nails cracked and started to bleed. I didn’t feel it. I was numb. So numb. My eyes itched with unshed tears. I was thankful for the shadows. If they saw me like this, it would only make me look and feel even more pathetic.

 

This wasn’t what I wanted. Not anymore. Not like this.

 

Julie arched, face down and ass up, getting reamed hard and deep. She was in a trance of pleasure and euphoria. Panting. Words tumbled out of her mouth, but most were incoherent or so filthy my brain tried to bleep them out.

 

“Yeah! Fuck yeah! Your little cunt is mine, you stuck-up bitch. Take it!” Devon’s face was red, slick with sweat. His jaw was set, teeth grinding as he drug his hands into Julie’s hips, making her ass shake and thighs ripple with every thrust. “Ever think you’d be taking a cock like mine? Huh? Well, now you know you’re not better than me. You’re just a lowly cock slut and I’m your fucking master!” His hand slapped her ass again, making it even redder.

 

Salty, warm tears dripped down my cheeks. I should be stopping this, but I couldn’t move. We’d been doing this for months now. Almost an entire year. At first… at first, it had been intoxicating. New. Adventurous. It was exciting and erotic. Seeing Julie pleasured, such a huge dick splitting her open. And the dichotomy of Julie’s beauty and Devon’s somewhat basement dweller look just added to the taboo and excitement.

But now, all I felt was bile in my throat. My stomach clenched and my cock shriveled. And yet… my balls still ached and contracted with the urge cum. Balls as blue as the ocean.

 

Devon continued his assault. Splitting her cunt open with his thick cock, ramming to depths I’d never be able to reach. Julie makes sounds that would put most porn videos to shame.

 

I grit my teeth. Devon’s flabby stomach bounced on my wife's ass as he ground her into the bed. Stretching pink lips becoming puffy and raw from his girth and frothing cream and continued stimulation.

 

In all the blogs and articles I’d read, cuckolding was about emotion, denial, titillation, often humiliation. There were men out there that would kill to be sitting where I was. Seeing and hearing what I was experiencing would have been enough to make them ejaculate without even touching themselves. And for a little while… I was one of those men. But now… now I felt a wave of clarity breaking through the fog in my brain. All my twisted desires and perverted thoughts seemed to have played themselves out. It was as if I’d been sprinting and had finally hit the wall. Now I was stumbling, about to fall flat on my face, my lungs collapsing and heart exploding.

 

The thrill had faded, and the scales had fallen from my eyes. What I was looking at wasn’t an inclusive spicy adventure anymore. This wasn’t the woman I had married. She’d changed. And that was my fault. I started this. What right did I have to complain? And didn’t Julie have a right to her own body and desires? She had come along this journey reluctantly but now was riding the roller-coaster in the very front with her hands up waving and screaming with unrestrained excitement.

​

Me? I’d been pushed to the very back of the ride. Maybe not even on the ride. I was waiting at the exit, looking at the pictures taken of those having fun. I was a spectator in my own marriage, in my own home. It had been over a month since I’d touched Julie in any sort of intimate way beyond some goodbye kisses. And those were fairly chaste. She liked to playfully tell me I “didn’t deserve” to touch her breasts, to feel her pussy or ass. Devon had claimed them. She always said it with a playful, seductive twinkle in her eye, but I didn’t feel titillated about it. It may be a game to her, but those words were knife digging into my bones. I rarely saw her naked, except when she was servicing Devon. 

 

I was left to satisfy myself, while she was taken to heights unknown, by a man that didn’t remotely deserve her, even if he did have a massive cock and the skill to use it.

Devon hadn’t earned her love. Her respect. Her hand in marriage. But he was the one whose dick was balls deep inside her. And he was the one she was screaming for. Screaming for him to cum inside her, to fuck her any way he wanted.

​

My eyes were hot with tears and my mouth was dry, like it was full of cotton.

 

I couldn’t do this anymore. I couldn’t.

 

I wouldn’t…

 

—

 

Devon’s cock was so deep. Julie could feel it in her stomach every time he rammed it home, hitting her cervix painfully, repeatedly, with his never ending stamina and determination to have his cock reach every hiding spot within her pussy. Her lips were stretched to their limit when he bottomed out inside, wrapping around his base and squeezing. Her body convulsed on its own, orgasms acting like waves on a beach. Crashing in one on top of the other, never letting up.

​

Julie’s mind was on fire. Vision blurry. Gasping as she tried to keep her breath and to keep from passing out. Devon had fucked her hard before. In fact, nearly every time he’d been inside her, he was firm and in control and never gentle. But this time, tonight, he was relentless. It was like he was on a mission to just ruin her completely. And he was definitely on the verge of succeeding.

​

He turned her over from her downward dog position, flipping her to her back. She groaned and lay there, head off the side of the bed and legs opening of their own accord. Her smooth mound was now puffy and pink from the assault. Devon was lying on her. He pushed her legs open further, and she felt a pang in one of her thighs as a muscle cramped. Her face twisted in pain, but it didn’t matter. Devon didn’t notice. His cock was at her entrance again and then he was inside.

​

“Fuck! How are you always so tight, fucking bitch!” He held her thighs and thrust his meaty hips into her, sweat dripping down his hairy chest and belly. Plap! Plap! Plap!

​

They were drenched in sweat. The sheets were stained and ruined. The smell of sex and sweat would never come out. Julie looked down at her pussy, amazed that she could take something so huge inside her. It was intense and her eyes rolled for a moment as his cock head rubbed her g-spot. Another orgasm rolled over her. She shuddered, letting her head fall back and off the edge of the bed to see the room upside down.

​

She expected to see the shadow of her husband in the corner. He was always there. Present. Watching. Like some other worldly observer. Her body was being taken, used for pure unadulterated pleasure. A body she’d pledged to Tom on their wedding day and even before that. She wanted him to see her in ecstasy. Making sure her eyes conveyed the painful bliss she was in, she looked over at her husband’s chair.

​

It was empty.

​

Where was Tom?

​

Devon grabbed Julie’s neck and her eyes darted to meet his blazing, hungry stare. He started squeezing, choking her, cutting off her air and sending her body into a spiral as her brain was denied oxygen.

​

“Take it! Take it! Fucking take my cock you whore. Yeah. Like that. Let your husband see me own his pretty little wife. Fucking own you. Mine. Say it!”

​

But Tom’s not there. Julie's brain sent the message, but it didn’t click. Her words were impossible to get out even as she tried to say, “Yours. Yours. All yours.” It just came out as a choked mess. Her vision blurring as he kept thrusting, another orgasm building.

​

“I’m gonna fucking cum. I’m gonna cum in your cunt, Julie. Look at me when I cum inside your married cunt!” Devon roared and tightened his grip. Her face turned cherry red, lips blue, eyes wide.

​

Julie’s orgasm exploded, sending hard tremors through her. Gushing wet juices flew and spit around Devon’s cock as he thrust again and then rammed one last time. His cum rushed out in a torrent like a spewing fire hose. Pleasure. Pain. The need to breathe. It mixed and turned and tumbled inside Julie as she wept, screamed, gasped and then, head falling back one more time to see the empty chair across the room, she fainted.

​

—

 

Julie’s eyes opened slowly. Her head was pounding. It felt like she had a hangover. Everything ached and her pussy felt like it was on fire. Her hand drifted to between her thighs and felt along her skin, her lips, feeling how sensitive her vulva was and inside feeling a throbbing pain and ache. Her hand also came away sticky and wet, the leaking cum from her vagina still warm.

​

Pee. I need to pee.

 

The thought was vague and foggy, but insistent.

 

Getting up was an effort. Rolling off the bed and seeing Devon laying sprawled out snoring deeply made Julie grimace. She quickly shuffled to the bathroom and relieved herself, then cleaned herself up before coming back out to the bedroom. Putting on her fuzzy gray robe, she tied it loosely, allowing it to hang open enough to show the curve of her breasts and stomach and pussy.

 

Tom wasn’t in the room. Something about that itched at Julie. Her eyes went to the chair her husband usually sat in during her activities. He’d been sitting there for months now, watching her break every rule of their relationship and marriage and agreement for this new lifestyle. She’d had adventures outside this room, without Tom. Things she’d only ever hinted about or joked about, Devon had made reality but she hadn’t told Tom. He didn’t know how far down she’d gone into this whirlwind of sexual exploration.

​

Tom had been a good cuckold, letting her degrade, belittle and humiliate him while she was used and abused in all the best ways. It sent a thrill through her and made her nipples harden under the robe even just thinking about it.

​

Her pussy started to warm up and she bit her lip. With an effort she pushed past the thoughts about how she’d been pulled out of her little church girl shell to become a complete slut. Owned by a man like Devon, allowing him to take her any way he wanted. Her hand moved between her legs, touching herself with a soft breath, feeling herself throbbing again. Her eyes went back to the chair. The empty chair.

​

Usually, Tom fell asleep in there after jerking off watching. But… he’d been missing when she’d looked over during the final moments before she’d passed out. Had he gone to the bathroom? Maybe to get a drink of water?

​

Brushing back her hair, a waterfall of honey locks that were sweaty, tangled, she slipped out of the bedroom and down the hall to the kitchen. The house was dark. She grabbed a glass and filled it with water, taking two long gulps. She was definitely dehydrated. It had been the most intense session yet. She could still feel the jolting in her bones as Devon had laid into her, filling her pussy so completely over and over.

 

Getting another glass of water, Julie downed it more slowly, then put the glass in the sink and went to the living room. Maybe Tom had been uncomfortable in the chair?

Sure enough, there was a dark form on the couch, covered in blankets. It was quiet. She couldn’t hear Tom’s breaths. Usually he breathed very heavily and snorted on occasion in his sleep. It was cute. But he was still, quiet, and it sent a chill down her spine. Quiet, like when he was sitting across the room in the dark, while she was being fucked.

​

Julie moved into the room and sat on the edge, not wanting to disturb her husband. “Tom…” she whispered.

​

No answer. 

​

Surely he wasn’t that deep asleep. Maybe… maybe he was awake and listening, but not wanting to talk. It wouldn’t surprise her. After what she’d just done in front of him. Said. Maybe he was still processing. Upset.

​

“Tom, honey...” She hesitated. “I… I know tonight was… um, intense…” She licked her lips. “It’s… it’s just sex talk, you know…” That wasn’t true. But she couldn’t let Tom think she didn’t respect him, or didn’t still love him. She did love him. Completely. But her love had changed. Tom wasn’t the sexual dynamo that Devon was. He didn’t make her feel like Devon did. Desired. Worshiped. An object of pure sex to be pleasured and used. Tom was great, but… 

​

“I know it was probably hard. Seeing me like that. Doing those things and saying those things but… It’s just sex. Just the heat of the moment kinda stuff, ya know?” Julie wasn’t sure if Tom was listening. He really could be asleep, and she was just talking to herself. But that seemed okay, too. Her words made her feel better, even if they weren’t reassuring her husband.

​

This whole adventure had been a roller-coaster. Moving so fast and furious and driving towards an exciting potential end. Though what end, Julie wasn’t sure. Before all this, they’d been thinking about kids. Now… now they had put that on hold for this fantasy. However, Devon had been whispering things about impregnating her. Of getting her off birth control. Letting him put a baby in her. She couldn’t deny that the taboo of it was exhilarating. Maybe she could talk Tom into it? Would it be so bad? They wanted kids. Did it really matter if the child was biologically Tom’s?

​

She looked at her husband’s sleeping form. “I love you, honey. I’ll see you in the morning, okay? We can talk about… about anything.” Standing up, she turned to face her husband’s sleeping form so her exposed vagina was next to where his head was under the blankets. “Wanna see what he did to me before I go back to bed?” She whispered it seductively, breathy, hoping to ignite that jealous desire in her husband she loved seeing. Before she’d started denying him, this sort of thing had led to some very amazing reclamation sex.

​

Tom didn’t stir.

 

With a sigh, she pulled her robe closed and walked back to the bedroom. Devon was still lying prone across the bed, snoring and sniffling, his pasty, sweaty, naked body exposed since the covers had slipped off the bed. Julie picked up the sheets and put them back, quickly slipping under them, still wearing her robe, and cuddled close to Devon. She hated his snoring, and how his rough hair always rubbed against her, but his softness and heat were comforting in their own way. Her fatigue took over, and she fell asleep, thinking everything was fine.

​

—

 

I didn’t stay at home. I left my bedroom while my wife was screaming out in orgasm and spewing filthy, degrading words, all directed at me. For a moment I considered just curling up on the couch, plugging my ears and trying to go to sleep. But even as I’d tossed the blankets onto the couch, I knew that nothing short of deafness would block out the sounds of bodies slapping, screaming, grunting. The smell of sweat was wafting through the house. It made my stomach churn. 

​

So I did the only thing I could do. I left.

​

I drove away like I was abandoning my life. All the thoughts going through my brain were screaming at me to just keep driving. To go forever or until the gas ran out, and I found myself somewhere new. Start over. Become a new man. Start a new family. But… I wasn’t that stupid.

​

Muscle memory took over, and I drove to my office downtown. I parked in the garage and thankfully had my backpack, so I could use my keycard to get into the building. My office was small, but cozy. There was a decent chair I could recline in and put my feet up on my desk to get some shuteye. It was quiet in the building, which allowed me to think. Thinking wasn’t something I’d done in months. My dick had been in charge. My libido, hormones, and my primal animal brain had been driving my actions. It was those things that had led me to allowing my wife to indulge in sexual exploits with a man I’d never have ever considered a threat.

​

This was my fault. All of it.

​

I’d pushed Julie. Pushed her at the Christmas party. Pushed her after, even when she’d expressed concerns about the fantasy and the reality. And then, she started liking it. Somewhere along the line, our fantasy of me watching her have sex, of seeing Devon with his massive cock fuck her and do things to her that I probably wouldn't have dared, had gotten twisted. 

​

This wasn’t a fantasy for both of us any more. Now, it was Julie and Devon. They were meeting without telling me. Indulging in things, fantasies and activities, that they either wouldn’t tell me about. However, Devon had teased me with photos and video clips that gave me just a little glimpse of how depraved my wife had become. Before, Julie would have teased me and told me, all while giving me a blow job or a hand job or having sex. Now… Now I was lucky to sit in the corner and watch. In my own house. My own fucking house!

​

I gripped the arms of my chair as I leaned back and grit my teeth. When did it go wrong? Was it that very first time? Allowing someone like Devon into our lives, into our marriage? Or was it after, when Devon had pushed us further? Talking down to me. Denying me. Making me sit further away rather than be right next to the action. 

​

But I couldn’t put it all on Devon or Julie. 

​

I never stopped her. Never confronted him. Never pushed back.

​

It was my fault.

​

Tears came again, and this time I didn’t suppress them. I cried silently in my office. Cried because I knew I’d lost my wife. She probably hadn’t even noticed I was gone. Did she even care if I was there to watch anymore?

​

I cried for several minutes before I could compose myself. I dried my eyes, leaned back, and pulled out my phone. Julie hadn’t called or texted. She didn’t know I was gone. Or she didn’t care. Putting my phone down, I looked up at the ceiling and tried to figure out what I was going to do. 

​

One thing was for sure, things couldn’t continue the way they were.

​

—

 

The morning came too soon. Whatever sleep I had got in my office wasn’t even remotely enough. I felt stiff and sore from how I’d slept. Shuffling out of my office, still in the jeans and t-shirt I’d been wearing last night, I looked around the still quiet office. Thankfully, the office had a lax dress code. Plus, since I was a UI Designer, it really didn’t matter what I wore. I could come to work in pajamas and people wouldn’t even notice.

​

In the breakroom, I caught my reflection in the chrome refrigerator. To say I looked rough was an understatement. My face had scruff, hair askew and eyes red from crying and lack of decent sleep. I went straight to the coffeemaker and started a pot, making sure it was dark. No need for sugar or cream this morning. I was gonna go straight black, probably all day. The coffee began to percolate as I stood in front of the machine, watching the coffee drip into the carafe. It was like watching my life drip, drip, drip away.

​

“Whoa. Someone had a rough night. Please tell me you’re not hungover. We really can’t have HR breathing down our necks again after what Terry did last month.” The voice jolted me from my trance and I turned to see Gwen, my team lead, walking into the breakroom. 

​

Gwen was dressed in a smart black pencil skirt and a red silk blouse. She rarely dressed so professionally unless she had to give some sort of presentation. I tried to think if we were supposed to be giving any sort of report, but my brain was moving like molasses. Running a hand through my hair, I attempted to straighten it and turned my attention to her. She was a tall woman with auburn hair she kept in a messy bun. Her eyes were a deep green like a stormy sea and her figure was toned and slim, chest large enough to push against the blouse in a seductive manner. Her black heels clicked on the linoleum as she came over, putting down her laptop on the table, stood next to me, ass pressed to the counter, arms folded.

​

“Not drunk.” I muttered and stifled a yawn.

​

“Then what’s up? You look like my son after a gaming marathon.” She grinned, her pink colored lips shiny from the fluorescent lights humming overhead.

​

I rolled my eyes. Her son, Danny, was almost fourteen, and being compared to a teen with a gaming addiction didn’t bode well for how I was looking. Gwen was admirable for being a driven businesswoman, as well as a single mother. Her husband had made the grave mistake of dicking down his secretary back when Danny was only four. She’d quickly given him the boot and won a very lucrative legal divorce settlement.

​

Her happy-go-lucky attitude shifted, and she raised an eyebrow. “Seriously, you good? Something going on? You’re not sick are you, because I’d rather you take that shit home and we get a little behind on the project rather than everyone having to call out sick and the timeline get pushed back even worse.” She stepped closer and put the back of her hand to my forehead.

​

Her touch was like a branding iron. It was hard not to have a crush on Gwen. Everyone in the office did, straight and otherwise. She was kind, smart, didn’t take shit, but wasn’t a slave driver. She was a fair and conscientious team lead. A true diamond among the muck of corporate life. Also, she was probably one of the sexiest women in IT anywhere.

​

Satisfied that I didn’t have a fever, she folded her arms under her breasts. “Spit it out. I’m not kidding. You look like shit.”

​

I pinched the bridge of my nose for a second before turning to pour myself a cup of coffee. “It’s… kind of a private matter.”That was true enough, though so vague that it wasn’t much of an excuse.

​

“You slept in your office.” The statement made me jolt and nearly spill my coffee.

​

“What?” I look at her like she can read my thoughts, and right now my brain is a minefield of taboo, kink, humiliation and pain. I don’t want anyone seeing that. Hell, I don’t even wanna see it. But I don’t have the luxury of being outside my brain.

​

Her posture softens and so does the concern that was formerly harsh on her face. Now she looks like she’s worried about me and not just how my foul look might affect the project. “I know the look from experience.” Her cheeks turn pink for a second, highlighting a few freckles that were sprinkled across her cheeks. “When Tristan was… well, when we were in the thick of all that shit, I spent some time in my office instead of going home. Not the smartest thing, but I needed some space, even from Danny. There’s really no mistaking the look.” Her eyes rove over me, my wrinkled clothes and five o’clock shadow and blood-shot eyes.

​

I let out a breath and looked down at my coffee, swirling it in a circle. “Yeah. Uh, I did.”

​

She nods, but doesn’t say anything.

​

“Uh, is that cool?” I look up, worried.

​

“Well, it’s not against the rules or anything. And, I’m just your team lead, not your ‘boss boss’, ya know. So, it doesn’t really matter what I think. However, if it becomes an issue in regards to the project, then, well, we might have to have a talk.” She unfolds her arms and smooths out her blouse and skirt absently, giving herself a second to think. “Is this going to be a…” Her eyes look up at the ceiling for a second then back to me, “Is it going to be a frequent thing or, just a one off?”

​

That’s the question, isn’t it? Am I going to sleep in my office again, or am I going to go home?

​

I almost scoff at the idea. Home. That’s not home anymore. Somehow I’d lost it. I’d broken everything with my fantasies and depraved wants. I’d let Devon into our home. And that wasn’t the worst of it. Julie worked with Devon. He was everywhere. He’d infected and tainted everything, and all with my blessing. Now Julie wasn’t mine anymore. How could she be considering the things she said and done? Even if cuckolding was about this sort of dynamic and treatment, that didn’t mean the words and actions didn’t hurt.

​

It was supposed to be part of the fun. Part of the thrill. This is what cuckolding was according to countless blogs and websites. But even if it had been exciting for a little while, at some point we’d driven off the agreed upon path. 

​

I wasn’t happy with this. Truth be told, I hadn’t been happy for weeks. But I’d kept it up. Kept watching as my wife was fucked completely, I didn’t know how I could ever compete. I’d put up with it, because Julie loved it. She couldn’t resist Devon. Evidenced by all the activity she’d been involved in behind my back. I still had the videos and pictures Devon had sent me to torture me. How fucked up was it, that I was furious and sad, considering abandoning my life, but I couldn’t let go of the pornographic media of my wife?

​

My grip tightened on my coffee cup, almost crushing it. A little coffee spilled over on my hand and I didn’t even flinch.

​

“Hey…” Gwen put a hand on my shoulder. “You don’t have to say anything.” She patted my back. “Listen. You look like hell and you can’t mope around here looking like the cat wrestled you and then dragged you in. So…” She turned from me and pulled an ID badge from her laptop bag and handed it to me. “It’s to the gym upstairs. Go take a shower. Shave that scruff because you look ridiculous, and then get back down here so we can go over the wire-frames for the site again. The muckety-mucks upstairs don’t like how some things are “flowing”.” She rolls her eyes.

​

I take the badge, looking at the horrible screened photo on the front. Somehow it was worse than DMV photos for driver’s licenses. But even in this horrible photo, she looked cute. “Thanks.” I said, taking a quick sip of my coffee before tossing the rest in the sink and the cup into the trash.

​

“Don’t take too long. Gonna be a banger day for this thing and I wanna keep on schedule so we don’t have to pull any late nights.” Satisfied, she grabbed her laptop bag and started for the door.

​

I watched her hips sway in her skirt, unable to keep my eyes off the very flattering behind she had, even if it was on the smaller side. Julie was a more full-figured woman, a bit of an hourglass curve to her. Gwen was much more slim and straight, with subtle curves that hinted at the possibilities. I didn’t see any panty lines.

​

Geeze, I needed to get my head on straight. I was still frustratingly backed up from last night. 

​

I hadn’t cum like I usually did. Maybe I could take care of it in the gym shower.

With a defeated sigh, I pocketed the badge and headed to the stairs to get myself cleaned up, and try to forget that my whole life had imploded.

​

—

​

Julie spied Devon in the bathroom while she was in the shower, washing off the sweat and cum from the previous night. Steam had fogged up the glass doors, but she could still see the barrel of a man through the glass after rubbing off the moisture. Devon was a squat, pale, hairy man with a sizable saggy ass, and thighs that rubbed together when he walked. His cock was massively thick and long. It was the one thing about him that he seemed to think actually mattered. He had an arrogance about it. 

​

He was standing at the sink, using Tom’s razor and shaving cream to shave his neck hair and trim up his pathetic excuse for a beard. More like exaggerated overgrowth of scruff. Something about him taking Tom’s things… it sent a shiver and a tingle through her nether regions. Julie bit her lip. Devon was distasteful. He wasn’t polite, was highly abrasive at work. He probably would have been fired a long time ago had he not been so damn good at his job. Besides, it seemed widely accepted that IT people were just weird and couldn’t be expected to conform to more conventional social norms.

​

Pulling her eyes away from him, she finished washing the soap from her hair and turned the water off, stepping out of the shower to towel off.

​

“Come suck my cock while I shave,” Devon ordered. And yes, it was an order. It was gruff and expectant as he angled his chin up to trace the razor along his neck.

​

Julie hesitated, dripping wet and looking for a towel, but couldn’t find one. Devon snapped his fingers and looked at her from the reflection in the mirror. His eyes bore into hers and drew her in. She stepped across the slick floor, careful not to slip, and knelt in front of Devon as he continued shaving. His cock was semi hard, dangling between his hairy thighs. It was a horrible, beastly beauty and Julie almost forgot her name looking at it.

​

Taking it in her wet hands, she started stroking it, getting it stiff before putting the thick head in her mouth. Her eyes drifted up to watch the man arrogantly using her husband's razor as he got a morning blow job. She hadn’t done this for Tom since… well, probably since their first year of marriage when they’d been all over each other. Time and responsibilities had stolen that passion and spontaneity from them, but Devon had dragged it back full force into their lives.

​

A hand drifted to Devon's heavy, prickly balls. She fondled them gently as she swallowed half the length of his meaty cock. He tasted like sweat, salt and pre-cum. He hadn’t taken a shower. Devon barely cared how he looked or smelled at work, but Julie had an image to maintain as the head of the Design Department. Coming into the office looking like she’d been fucked, and smelling like cum and sweat was not something she could do.

​

The man grunted, feeling Julie's mouth swallow his girth, and he grinned as he continued shaving. Her groans and grunts and slurps filled the echoey bathroom. Once upon a time, only a few months back, she would have tried to be a bit more demure about her oral skills. Devon had fucked that behavior out of her. Now she slurped, gulped, glugged and snorted and gagged on his cock like it was everything she needed to survive.

​

Spit dripped down his shaft and along his balls, into her hand as she stroked his testicles, and down her chin to her wet chest and nipples as she gulped down the massive thing that made this man appealing.

​

Julie glanced at the door. It was open. Good. Tom would probably be up soon and come to shave. Let him see Devon taking his place. Using his toiletries with his wife on her knees servicing him. She wanted to see that devastation and lust and jealousy in her husband's eyes. She’d missed it last night. Maybe this would make up for that loss.

​

Tom never came.

 

Devon did. His cock became ragingly erect and was slowly thrusting down her throat. She squeezed his base and gagged on the amount that he was giving her before he gripped the edge of the sink and began to shoot his morning load straight into her throat. She gagged, gurgling and almost spitting up his cum. Some of it drooled around the corners of her mouth and down her chin. It dripped onto her chest before she gained control and swallowed. Swallowed. Swallowed.

​

Her lover grunted with the last bit of semen dripping from his cock, pulling it from her sucking lips. He gave her a gentle smack with his cock against her lips. “Good girl.” He chuckled and smacked her cheek with his cock, then went to get his clothes.

​

Julie remained on her knees for a moment, gasping and slowing her heart before getting to her feet and going to the linen closet for a towel.

​

Once she was dry, she went to her dresser. Devon had already dressed and was gone. They couldn’t be seen going to work together, and besides, Devon liked getting to the office super early to get a jump on work. There were always dozens of tickets that had come through from various employees needing computer assistance. The man was dedicated to his job. And even though he was having fun with Julie, he had made it clear he wouldn’t put his career on the line even for her pussy. In a way, Julie admired that.

​

She picked out a pair of pink thong panties that were practically see through and a cute matching bra that made her tits perk up. Not that they were sagging, but age had started to catch up with her. Next, she put on a pair of black slacks and a silk white blouse, then a blazer to finish the outfit and a pair of red chucks. It was all business until it came to footwear. Then it was about comfort. Besides, being part of the design department sort of lent itself to dressing a little eccentric.

​

The kitchen was quiet. There wasn’t any coffee brewing like usual. Tom was usually up early and had the coffee ready, and was making breakfast. Julie started the coffee and left the kitchen to go to the living room. Maybe Tom was still asleep or wasn’t feeling well. Maybe that would explain why he left last night. If he was feeling sick, he probably didn’t want to kill the mood by throwing up everywhere.

​

Suddenly Julie was walking a little quicker down the hall, worried her husband had been up all night with some sort of virus. What if he had a fever or worse? Had she really just traded orgasms and sex at the expense of her husband's health?

​

The blankets were piled on the couch, but no sign of Tom. It was hard to tell, but the blankets looked almost exactly like they had last night. Had Tom even been out here? Under these blankets? Had she been talking to herself last night when she came to the couch? But where else would Tom be?

​

She went to the guest room, but it was still exactly as they’d left it with the sheets and quilt folded neatly in a pile in the center of the bed. No sign of her husband. The house wasn’t overly large, so there really wasn’t anywhere else Tom could be. When she checked the driveway, Tom’s car was gone. So that meant he wasn’t home. But when had he left? She usually heard him leave, and he never left without giving her a kiss.

​

Julie stood on the porch, looking at the empty driveway and hugged herself. Something wasn’t sitting right with her, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. Maybe Tom had just needed to get to the office early. She knew he was working on a project that was coming due by the end of the year. The client was micromanaging, making progress slow and achingly tedious. 

​

That was it. He just needed to get to work early.

​

She brushed off her concerns and pulled out her phone from her pocket, shooting off a text.

​

Missed you this morning. <3

​

For a second, she considered sending something teasing about last night. How he’d missed a good show. Letting him know that her pussy was still aching and sore from Devon’s hard fucking. She decided against it. If… and it was a big if, Tom had been upset about last night, she didn’t want to push things. He needed to focus at work and getting those sort of racy texts in the morning wouldn’t help. She’d talk to him tonight. Make a nice dinner and discuss anything, if there was anything even to talk about.

​

Already thinking of the ingredients she’d need to make pork chops, she pushed aside the distressing absence of her husband and the routine they’d made and went back inside.

​

—

 

I sat on one of the benches in the gym on the sixth floor of the office building. It’s a private gym reserved only for managers and the higher ups, but some of the lower-level employees and team leads often got special privileges from time to time. Hence, Gwen having a badge and access. This early it was still fairly empty, only a few people either jogging on the treadmills or using the stair masters. I took a quick shower and shaved well enough that I didn’t look like some bum that walked in off the street. Behind me, lockers lined the wall and a door between banks of lockers led to the men's and women's and gender neutral changing rooms. 

​

It struck me as progressive when I started at Quintessential Pixel, QP for short, that they’d have gender neutral bathrooms and changing rooms in their gym. Their exact instructions were “use whichever one you want, but cause a problem and we will drop-kick you to the curb”. Not sure if that was something HR had given their blessing to say, but it didn’t stop the managers from saying it. It was refreshing.

​

I pulled out my phone and stared at the text from Julie. How long had it been since she’d woken up and found out I wasn’t there? Hours? Maybe she’d woken up just a few minutes ago.

​

My brain kept trying to bombard me with possibilities, but I shut it down fast and shoved my phone back in my pocket. It buzzed again. I pulled it back out to see a message from Devon. I grimaced. The last person I wanted to talk to or see a message from was the man that had essentially stolen my wife. My fist clenched my phone. I felt it groan against my grip. The smart thing to do would be to push the notification aside, put my phone away, and head back down to my office.

​

But I’m not smart. I’m broken. 

​

Only a broken, fucked up man would allow another man to use his wife like Devon was using mine. Only an idiot would sit in the corner and let himself be completely humiliated and sidelined in his own home and in his own marriage. It didn’t matter that there were whole communities out there that would disagree with me. That lived this life unscathed and happily. I was a hypocrite of the highest order, because I’d been enjoying this. And now I was making a heel turn. Maybe others could do this, but I wasn’t built for it.

​

I hung my head, gave a quick glance around the gym to make sure no one was close by, then turned the volume down on my phone. Devon was notorious for sending me videos that were on the loud side. Like the one he’d sent last week… the one that had nearly broken me and had started unraveling everything.

​

The message was just a picture. Julie was on her back, legs up and reaching down to pull her cheeks apart, showing the camera a full view of her asshole and pussy. They were glazed in thick white cream. Her face was sultry, looking into the camera with intense, stormy eyes. I'd fallen in love with those eyes freshman year of college. The look on her face was familiar, the pale, flushed look and sweaty complexion of a woman who’d just been fucked.

​

Under the image was a text, “I fucking love filling your wife with my cum. She can take so much!” 

​

I muttered a curse and pocketed my phone, feeling my erection down my thigh and cursing myself for being so fucked up. My brain must be wired wrong. And it’s not that I was judging people who were in the lifestyle. I’d learned a lot about hotwifing and cuckolding over the last year. For some people, the dynamic really seemed to work. I thought it would work for us. But something… something in me just couldn’t take it. Not anymore. 

​

Maybe it was just nerves and jealousy. Who knows, maybe I just needed a minor break and then it would be fun again. Obviously, I was still getting aroused. Painfully so. Shit, my erection wasn’t going away. I hadn’t cum last night, and it seemed my balls were still percolating like the coffee I’d brewed this morning. I wanted to be stronger than my desires, stronger than my stupid libido. But… as we’ve established, I’m broken.

​

The men’s locker room had a couple of people milling around, showering and using the stalls. It wouldn’t be hard to duck into one of the stalls. They were floor length and fairly insulated so whatever went on in them was kept largely a secret from the outside world. As it should be. I was a huge stickler when it came to bathrooms. I always found it appalling how many bathrooms seemed to be an afterthought, and were so poorly designed and outfitted that it would probably have been better to just go and take a shit in the woods.

​

Something about jerking off with other men around brought back feelings of sitting in that uncomfortable chair, watching Devon and Julie. I didn’t want to stir up that feeling, so I slipped into the gender neutral bathroom. Thankfully, it was empty, and I went to one of the stalls and closed myself in. Locking the door, I sat down on the toilet, pulling my pants and boxers down.

​

It felt good to let my cock free of its constraints. Like a weight had been lifted. I pulled my phone out and considered what I should look at or watch to help me snap one off quickly. Porn was easy enough, there were thousands, millions of options there. Biting my lip, I let my thumbs type out “hotwife porn” into the search bar. Millions and millions of results came up. I flicked and scrolled through the videos, trying to find a thumbnail that could hold my attention. My mood would always dictate what I chose, and since being introduced into this cuckolding lifestyle, I’d developed a taste for married women doing naughty things. Somehow, it was easier to watch when it wasn’t my own wife. I’m sure there was some philosophical, psychological idea about that. Disassociating my situation and life from what I would search for and enjoy. But I hadn’t done well in those classes in college, so I didn’t really jump down the rabbit hole of psychoanalyzing my fucked up brain.

​

A video caught my eye, and I clicked. It was a recent upload, only within the last week, from a Swingers/Hotwife site that I’d frequented over the past months. When Julie had started cutting me off, I’d retreated to the internet world and found a few places that always had a lot of good quality, but amateur, videos. There was something about those that appealed to me the most. Polished porn just wasn’t cutting it. It was so fake. I wanted something a little more raw and real.

​

It wasn’t a long video, clipped to be short and obviously wanting viewers to subscribe to the site to see the whole thing, but there was enough that I knew I could get off if it was explicit enough.

 

The room was decorated in dark reds and blacks. Patterned wallpaper with twisting, vine like designs and lamps on either side of the king-sized silk sheeted bed. A man lay back, groaning, wearing a face mask that covered his eyes and nose. It made him look stupid. I hated those things. A woman was riding him, squatting with her feet planted on either side of his narrow hips, small ass bouncing and revealing a sizable, thick cock splitting her hairy pussy. It was fine amber colored hair, a bit wild and untamed, but not a jungle. The only thing the woman wore was a dark purple, cupless corset. Her small chest bounced as she rode steady and firm, ass slapping the man’s legs over and over with a soft smack smack smack. Her dark reddish hair, hard to tell the exact color because of the lighting of the room, was damp and pulled back in a ponytail. Her face was covered with a lace eye mask.

​

“Fuck. Fuck.” She was breathless, moving up and down. The camera shifted from behind her, seeing her cheeks clap a little, making her asshole flash, to the front to get a POV from the man’s perspective.

​

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up for a moment, hearing the woman’s panting words. Something about her sounded… familiar? Maybe. I could just be imagining it.

A thick cock was splitting the woman’s lips open wide. Thick white cream gathered around his base, among his pubic hair. The woman had her hands up in her hair, almost undoing the ponytail as she arched and groaned at the ceiling. “Holy fucking shit. Yes. Yes.”

​

The man reached up to her hips and pulled her down forcefully. “Fuck you’re tight. Yes, squeeze me like that slut. Fucking hell yes, you’re good.”

​

Moaning, the woman put her hands on her little tits and pinched the pink nipples, making them stand out even more. “Oooooh god, yes. Please….”

​

The video jump cut to the woman on all fours, ass up and head pushed down by the man as he pounded into her upturned pussy. Hard and fast thrusts, balls slapping the woman’s clit as she squealed. “Oh shitshitshit fuck please! Please! Yes! Like that. Fuck my pussy!” For a minute, the video captured the hard and fast fucking from behind, and then cut to a new position. Now she was laying on her side, leg up and the man behind her thrusting into her.

​

She was screaming. “Fuuuuuuck! Fuck me, you fucking dick, oh god yes!” Her lips were dragging against the man’s shaft, more cream dripping down it as he held her leg and was panting with his movements. 

​

The scene moved to the woman laying on her back, legs up, knees bent to her tits and the man thrusting and groaning animalisticly deep. “Ohhhhh fuuuuuuck yes. Take it, baby. Ohhhh shit!” His balls were contracting. The woman’s asshole puckered and pussy lips gripped the man’s base.

​

I watched close, listening intently since I had the phone at a low volume hoping nothing would carry too far beyond the door. The woman was beautiful. Slim but still with a nice curve to her hips and stomach. If I had to guess, due to a few stretch marks, she was probably a mom. That made things even hotter. At some point I’d developed that fetish too. A mom doing slutty things just felt so taboo and erotic.

​

My hand was moving fast, the friction making my erection burn and getting me close to the finish line. Thankfully it was easy to block out thoughts of Julie and Devon when I had something right in front of me that was equally erotic, if in a different way.

​

Both of them were cumming. The man was clearly shooting his load into the woman’s tight little canal as she moaned and her thighs quivered in orgasm.

​

After a minute of those deep moans and close up of their intimate contact, the man pulled out. Everything was wet and glistening and dripping. Thick cream dripped out of the woman’s pussy and down her ass crack, glazing her asshole. 

​

Her thighs were shaking. “Oh, fuck.” She whispered between breaths. “Holy shit, that felt good…”

​

Again, something about her voice tickled the back of my brain but it quickly blanked as my fist pumped and my cock exploded into the tissue I had wrapped around it. The last thing I wanted was to have to clean off my shirt of cum or my pants. I grit my teeth, sucking in shallow breaths as the orgasm washed over me. The tissue stuck to my skin, soaking through the thin paper. It was intense but lifted the fog in my brain.

​

I leaned back against the wall, taking deep breaths and robotically closing the tab on my phone and shoving it in my pocket. It took a minute to clean and compose myself. My nerves were still on edge, but it felt like it was far more manageable. Post nut clarity for the win. I sat back on the toilet, pants back on, and put my face in my hands. Last night I’d felt wound up like an overly coiled spring, ready to burst and break. Now I was unwound. I was free of the pent up arousal. Things were clearer, but I still didn’t have a full solution. I let myself dry sob. No tears, just hiccuping breaths and gasps as I mourned what I felt was my marriage, failing and falling apart, even if I was the only one that knew it.

​

Was there a way I could talk to Julie about this? Would it make a difference? Would she listen?

​

This made the tears come. I wasn’t sure that my wife… love of my life and partner through so much, would side with me, and that was what really broke my heart.